"Manaia" project: Marine conservation under sail - Manuel Marinelli and his "Waya Waya"

Anyone who sets foot on the "Waya Waya" quickly realises that this is no ordinary yacht. Fins, snorkels and masks lie at the stern. Diving buoys lean against the sea fence, wetsuits dry under the main boom, dive computers dangle from the steering position. There is also a tape measure and waterproof notepads for taking notes under water. Powerful solar panels are also installed on deck, and the masts of the white schooner rise well over 20 metres into the blue sky of Elba. No, this really is no ordinary charter ship. The "Waya Waya" is travelling on a different mission.

It's a similar picture below deck. A dozen shoes are tucked under the steps of the companionway, the watch schedule hangs at the entrance to the saloon. Ten names are written on it, "Rotation every 15 minutes". The crew is supposed to spread out on the port, starboard and bow sides, keeping their eyes on the sea during every journey. A recorder is assigned to make a note of everything: dolphins spotted, sea turtles, moonfish, type and size of rubbish floating in the water. One of the crew is always on hand to send up the drone. When the ship crosses a jellyfish front, passes through a carpet of rubbish or the "Waya Waya" swims into something else unusual, which unfortunately is all too often no longer so unusual these days.

The sea first and foremost

A 3D printer for recycling plastic bottles is located in a locker on the starboard side, and six microscopes are lined up on the shelf. Next to them are books on the flora and fauna of the Mediterranean, a bucket of pencils, Darwin's "Origin of Species" and all kinds of nautical manuals. Aegean, Ionian Islands, Corsica. Greek, Croatian and Italian waters. There's another jar in the fridge between the jam and margarine: a collection of seaweed seeds that look like green olives.

There are cables for various chargers everywhere. Cameras, computers, mobile phones. A colourful volleyball is still stuck behind a strop. But no one has come on board to play cheerful beach games.

Changing crews arrive from all over the world. Most of them are students who embark for at least two weeks, sometimes several months. Anyone who wants to travel on the "Waya Waya" has to complete an interview in advance. Not everyone is seaworthy and fit to sail, wants to share the forward cabin with several people, can assess the on-board routines and set priorities. Here, that means: first the sea, then the sailing!

Fascination for the underwater world

Ten people are on board the "Waya Waya" during these weeks at the end of May. Jutta from Germany, a budding plastics engineer. She is studying environmental technology, specialising in recycling and microplastics in the oceans. Aoi from Japan Biomedicine. Lily from Scotland Marine Sciences. Esmee is from England and is studying Marine and Terrestrial Conservation. After inspecting the coral reefs off Madagascar as a "Reef Doctor", she is now focussing on seagrass in the Mediterranean. Ryunosuke from Tokyo has a degree in ecology. He wants to study the marine specialities of the Mare Nostrum. "I know the world of corals from the Pacific and Australia," he says. "But here in the Mediterranean, there are real forests and meadows under water. It's absolutely fascinating!"

That evening, they sit together at the large table downstairs in the lounge. Also there: Leonie from Switzerland, who wants to become a teacher but is actually more interested in the sea. Simon, a biologist from the University of Bremen, who is studying the characteristics of sea areas that are shifting further and further north as temperatures rise. He has often travelled to the Arctic for his research. Spitsbergen, Greenland, the fjords of Norway. He is one of the scientific advisors to the "Waya Waya" crew.

Climate change as an issue for marine conservation?

We have mushroom risotto and drink water from the on-board desalination plant. It manages 1,000 litres a day. The "Waya Waya" is largely self-sufficient. Latin names do the rounds at dinner, data from the last dive. It's all about the percentage of seaweed cover in the bays where they were anchored. About sightings of funnel and umbrella algae. About the consequences of eutrophication. Here and there a sentence about climate change. Sometimes a joke sails through the ship.

However, another piece of equipment in the inventory of the "Waya Waya" makes it clear that this is generally not about jokes. It is a small shrine that has been sailing along for years and is already quite frayed: an old copy of "Moby Dick", which was on board the "Rainbow Warrior" when the Greenpeace ship protested against nuclear tests in Mururoa Atoll in 1985. French naval divers then planted a bomb on the hull in the harbour of Auckland, New Zealand. The ship exploded and sank, one person died - but this book survived.

Marinelli travelled around the world on the "Rainbow Warrior"

Greenpeace veterans Brian Fitzgerald and Peter Wilcox handed it over many years ago to the man who is now captain of the "Waya Waya". Manuel Marinelli, 39, barefoot, wearing a T-shirt, a leather band with a silver amulet hanging around his neck. He sits quietly at the table, bent over a slice of melon. Marinelli is not one to talk much. He doesn't like making a big fuss. He prefers to do his own thing, although he always has.

Even as a child, he followed the early activities of Greenpeace. As a student, he joined the environmental organisation, distributed brochures at information tables and completed activist training in Vienna: climbing courses, special diving. He obtained his sailing licence at the age of 16 in school sports on Austria's lakes. He later studied marine biology, worked at research stations in Croatia and obtained all his skipper's licences. Marinelli then signed on to the "Rainbow Warrior" and was on board the first expedition in the western Indian Ocean. Mozambique, Mauritius, Maldives. "We saw fleets of trawlers grazing the seas that were as big as factories," he reports. Marinelli travelled around the world three times on the "Rainbow Warrior". "I've seen everything on these trips," he says. "The dying reefs, the rubbish, the gradual demise."

Passion and marine conservation for the ocean

The oceans have been his passion ever since. Marine conservation, preferably under sail. In between his trips for Greenpeace, he came across his first own ship: a derelict catamaran in the Mergui Archipelago off the west coast of Myanmar. Marinelli made the wreck ready for sea again and travelled with guests through the tropical archipelago for three years until the political situation in the Andaman Sea became too precarious.

He then dedicated himself even more specifically to marine conservation. He buys the "Independence", a 43-foot steel ketch designed by Bruce Roberts, and sails the Mediterranean for almost ten years. He takes marine biologists, whale experts, ecologists and zoologists with him. His NGO, Project Manaia, becomes a kind of alternative base for scientific field research. An "Open Research Boat" to better understand the suffering Mare Nostrum.

The Mediterranean is considered one of the dirtiest bodies of water on the planet

"The problems of our time are more concentrated in the Mediterranean than in any other sea on earth," says Marinelli. Tourism, shipping traffic, overfishing, overheating, waste: the Mediterranean is considered one of the dirtiest bodies of water on the planet. Marinelli says: "It is a key sea, if we find solutions here, they could work everywhere."

His main focus: Seagrass, pollution and invasive species. Among other things, Marinelli helps to create "heat maps". These are nautical charts that show where plastic waste is concentrated in the Mediterranean. For these maps, which have hardly existed until now, he sailed back and forth for five years, from the Bosporus to Gibraltar - mapping marine litter.

Since last winter, he has had a larger ship for his expeditions: the "Waya Waya". This is a 21 metre long schooner from Plan Joubert, built from steel and weighing 27 tonnes. Marinelli lives on the ship with his wife Pinar; he has not had a permanent home for years. Up to twelve guests can sail on board. Project Manaia is supported by the German Foundation for Marine Conservation, among others. Marinelli was awarded the "Hans and Lotte Hass Prize" for his efforts to better understand the migration of invasive species from the Red Sea. With the support of the Austrian government, he has also made educational videos for schools.

Sharing knowledge wherever possible

Marinelli shares his knowledge wherever he can. With other NGOs, researchers and universities. He visits schools, gives talks in communities and diving schools. On his trips, he collects data, takes researchers with him and propagates proposed solutions. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, his efforts are just a drop in the ocean. Marinelli knows that. But he also knows: "At some point, the drop wears away the stone."

The "Waya Waya" has just arrived from France and then anchored in the north of Elba. "There is an area of seagrass there that puzzles us," says Marinelli. "While many Posidonia areas are dying off, this one is doing well - it is growing and thriving in an unusual way." Why is that? What can you learn from it?

The topic of seagrass is close to Marinelli's heart. A third of all marine species grow in this habitat. Neptune grass produces oxygen and stores large amounts of CO2. It is considered the lungs of the Mediterranean and plays an increasingly important role in species and climate protection.

Pleasure craft also cause problems

"However, the warming of the sea, the washing in of nutrients, the trawl nets and the many ships are harming the seagrass." Nobody knows what ultimately causes the most damage. "The anchors of pleasure boats are a big problem. They can destroy in seconds what has grown over many decades or even centuries. The meadows are becoming thinner almost everywhere, losing surface area," he says. In the Aegean or in Croatia, around 80 per cent has already been destroyed.

And the problems are increasing. The rising temperatures, the density of ships, the degree of overfishing. The number of sailing ships is also increasing and charter bases are springing up everywhere. "Sailors have at least developed a greater awareness of responsible behaviour," says Marinelli.

These days, the "Waya Waya" is anchored in the Golfo Stella near Lacona in the south of Elba. The students have jumped into the sea and are swimming transects: Metre by metre, they are inspecting certain areas on the seabed, diving for seagrass, determining vegetation and biodiversity in order to document changes. Marinelli returns to many bays year after year to see what is shifting in the sea. What is coming? What is disappearing? In the evenings, they transfer the data into tables, feed the computers and make their surveys available to interested NGOs, universities and biologists.

Involving communities more intensively in marine conservation

On land, Marinelli talks to fishermen and diving centres, discusses options for deploying mooring buoys and integrating the communities more closely into marine conservation. In the south of Elba, a special project is on the agenda: they want to replant seagrass naturally. Marinelli: "Protected areas and no-go zones are no longer enough in many places in the Mediterranean; we have to renaturalise the Posidonia areas in a targeted manner." However, this is a Sisyphean task. When and where do the seagrass meadows release their rare seeds? Where do they thrive? Under what conditions?

In the evening, Marinelli gives a lecture to the guests and students on board. The date is written in green marker on the blackboard with the day's programme: "Seagrass chat 17.30". The next afternoon, a visitor comes on board: Svend Andersen, a German greenhouse gas accountant who works from Canada all over the world. Andersen wants to quantify the exact quantities of carbon dioxide stored in the seagrass. Experts like him are often on board, give lectures and want to increase their knowledge on site.

Andersen explains how important blue carbon is for climate protection. He exchanges ideas with Marinelli and the students and discusses the best methods for planting the seagrass. Trials are being carried out all over the world. But there are still many questions. Nature is difficult and its methods, which have been tried and tested over millions of years, cannot simply be copied. Like in a school class, they are all sitting on board, up on deck, talking shop about how to get the sea and the planet in general under control again.

Meanwhile, the sun is shining over Elba. It's getting warmer in Italy, another midsummer is approaching.

New seagrass seeds on the seabed

The next day, Marinelli dives with tanks. He, the Englishwoman Esmee Tobin and the dive guides from the local Sottolonda diving centre go down to a depth of 15 metres. Down there, they release the seagrass seeds and gently press them into the mimosa-green seabed. Marinelli will keep in touch with the diving centre and will return in a year's time to check what has become of the seeds. Tiny shoots perhaps, in the best case a small, delicate tuft of new seaweed. To push ahead with planting on a large scale will be a Herculean task.

It is a race against time, a race against further decimation. But Marinelli is not giving up. He recognises the importance of such actions: "They are not an end, they are a beginning."

Seismograph of the Mare Nostrum

His ship has been fully booked for months and his route this year will once again take him far across the western Mediterranean. He has been travelling through various sea areas between Africa and Europe for years and has long since become a kind of seismograph of the Mare Nostrum. Hardly anyone else spends as much time on the water, hardly anyone else gets as close to the signatures of this sea as he does. Marinelli. The name really is in his passport, he says. Ever since he was born.

He thinks about it. All in all, he must have spent around 16 years on ships in his life by now. First on the "Rainbow Warrior", then around ten years on his own yachts. In between, he and a former girlfriend rented a flat in Graz, back home in Austria. "Nice area, 60 square metres, two rooms," he says. But it didn't work out. After a month, he moved out and set off again. To the ship. "I hung around the flat, didn't know what to do. It was strange, and the next thing I knew I might have bought a sofa and a TV."

What happens next?

With its larger "Waya Waya", new possibilities are now opening up once again. Even more life on board. Further journeys, deeper insights into the wonders and wounds of this sea. More biologists and marine enthusiasts can now join him and his wife Pinar on board. They can research, they can act to counteract in their own way and somehow avert the madness. When asked how this can ultimately be achieved on a large scale, Marinelli looks soberly through his sunglasses: "If we don't hurry up and do everything we can," he says, "then the Mediterranean will turn into a bathtub in which the lionfish eat each other in the next few decades."

Marinelli is also familiar with the invaders from the Red Sea. The lionfish, which entered the Mediterranean from the Suez Canal, has long since become a plague. A few years ago, divers spotted the first specimen near Crete. Soon after, they counted five, then 100, and then the invader multiplied at breakneck speed.

A lionfish lays 2,000 eggs a year. The eggs cling to flotsam, wood and ship hulls. They get everywhere. The fish are poisonous and have no enemies. The lionfish can eat half its body weight in one day and can fast for weeks if necessary. The fish have already devoured entire gillnets and are now about to take over the eastern Mediterranean. The first ones are swimming off Sardinia.

Unforeseeable consequences

"Such invasive species can cause massive damage," says Marinelli. "In the Caribbean, they have wiped out half the populations." Ultimately, however, they are just another example of how many natural cycles humans have upset. The dimensions: global. The consequences: unforeseeable.

The next morning, the "Waya Waya" sets sail. They want to sail around the Monte Grosso peninsula, on to the bays in the west and then over to Corsica. Like an old frigate bird, the white ship sails across the blue sea, leaning slightly to one side as they tighten the sheets and head upwind. Crossing against. With someone like Marinelli, the word suddenly takes on a whole new meaning. And you silently think to yourself: If only it were the wind.

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